Chapter Three

September 2005

A few days later, Celia called us, and I put the call on speakerphone.

"Yo, Cels, what's up?" Hector asked.

"Hey, guys. You have some time to talk to me?" she asked.

"Always, Celia. Tell us some good news," I requested.

"Alright. I spoke with Mark, the architect I was talking to you about. He's happy to take on your project. I gave him your number, plus he made copies of the blueprints you gave me. He will call you to set up a meeting so you can tell him directly what you want added or changed in the building. He also knows a range design company he's worked with before, and he can coordinate the range's design once he gets an idea of how big you want it, et cetera."

"That's great, Celia. What about a contractor?"

"I also spoke with my friend Gary. He's a general contractor and project manager. He's got something going on right now, but he should be done in about two weeks. He has another project lined up, but it's in Newark, so he should be able to do both. I know a few more people, but he's the one I'm most comfortable with, so I'm recommending him specifically. It's up to you, though."

"Do you think he can manage two projects at once?"

"I think so. The other project is another office building, and there's nothing fancy about it like yours. Just offices. He won't need to be on-site full-time for either of you, and he has a large enough crew to split them for the two projects."

"Alright. I'll trust you if you are confident he's the right choice."

"Okay. We can coordinate the start date when the architect has finished his plans and you've approved them. I'll work with you to pick out finishes and things like that, then coordinate with Gary to get everything done the way you want."

"We can't thank you enough, Cels, for taking this on for us. I know it's a lot of work," Hector said.

"It is, but you'll pay me handsomely," she laughed. "Though, of course, I'll give you the family discount. Let's connect again when you've met with Mark and he's finished his plans, okay?"

"Sounds good, Celia. Thanks so much," I replied and hung up.

I looked at Hector and smiled. "Do you want to meet with Mark when he calls?"

"Do I have to?"

"Don't you want any say in anything?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I don't care about the rest as long as my work area is big enough. I'll be involved in my apartment decisions, though."

"Alright. Thanks for leaving me high and dry with all this shit," I said, keeping my face blank and tone even.

He gazed at me momentarily, then chuckled and tossed a pencil at me. "You almost had me, pendejo."

A week later, we met with the architect, Mark. He came to the building, and we showed him around and explained what we wanted. Hector was particular about his apartment, requesting a deluxe chef's kitchen with all the amenities. He also wanted a large master suite with an ensuite bathroom, an oversized rain shower, and a separate, freestanding tub. I wasn't surprised about the kitchen. Hector had always enjoyed cooking, and his new boyfriend, Juan, was a professional chef, so it made sense. I was a little thrown when Mark asked if I had any special requests for my apartment. I'd never been in a position to design a place to live to exactly my specifications, and I'd never lived anywhere particularly luxurious unless you counted running water and an inside toilet as a luxury. Considering some of the places where I had spent time in the Army, I suppose those were a luxury.

"A large closet with a built-in gun safe and a home office are must-haves. I don't need a chef's kitchen or a bathtub. A shower with multiple jets would be nice, though."

He nodded. "I have a phone consultation with a range designer tomorrow afternoon. Have you done any research into what you'd like?"

"A little. I'd like a minimum of three lanes and all the usual pistol and rifle shooting options. Other than that, I'd be happy to hear the range designer's recommendations."

"Alright. Is the basement your preferred location for the range?"

I nodded. "It is."

"Well, I think I have everything I need to get started on the plans. Give me about two weeks to work on them and coordinate with the gun range people, and I'll be in touch as soon as we have something prepared."

"Fine. I look forward to hearing from you again," I replied. He shook our hands, then took the elevator downstairs to the parking garage to leave.

"Your new place sounds like it'll be nice, Mano," I told Hector.

He shrugged. "If we build it from nothing, it might as well be, right? I can afford to spend a little more on the nicer things."

"I'm not begrudging you anything. I still can't believe you never told me what you do for a living, though."

"It never came up. You knew enough. Plus, I've always been subjected to various non-disclosure agreements. I still am, but I haven't told you any specifics that would violate them."

"Will you continue these contracts once we have RangeMan up and running?" I asked curiously.

"Probably, at least for a while. We'll need all the money we can get before seeing real money come in, right?"

"True. That's why I'll still do government jobs when they arise, at least for a while."

The phone on the card table rang then, and I answered, "Yo."

"Um…is this Ranger?" the female voice asked.

"Yes."

"Hi, Ranger. This is Connie from Vincent Plum Bail Bonds. I'm just calling to let you know we have an FTA available. We're closed in a couple of hours, so if you can't pick up the file today, we're open again tomorrow at nine."

"Thank you, Connie. I'll be in this afternoon."

I hung up and turned to Hector. "We got a skip. I'm gonna go pick up the file. You have fancy search programs for your work, right?" Hector nodded. "Great, we might need them."

I bumped his fist, then double-timed down the stairs to the garage. I drove toward the bail bonds office through the neighbourhood. As I exited the car and neared the bonds office door, I felt that tingle shooting up my spine.

Upon entering, I immediately catalogued the other occupants of the small office. Connie was sitting behind her desk, applying red nail polish to her long fingernails. A voluptuous black woman wearing neon green and yellow spandex sat on the fake leather couch, flipping through a magazine. Stephanie was sitting next to her, perusing a file. When the bell above the door rang, all three women looked up, and their mouths dropped open.

I wanted to look down at myself to make sure there wasn't a reason they were all staring at me, but I resisted the urge and kept a neutral expression.

"Ladies," I said, looking at each. Stephanie recovered from my sudden appearance first.

"Hi, Ranger," she said, smiling at me. "You have a skip?"

I nodded once. Connie held up the file, and I crossed the office to retrieve it. "Thanks, Connie."

"No problem, Ranger," she replied. "You should talk to Steph about him. She knows him."

"I do?" Steph asked, surprised. Connie nodded.

I opened the folder. "Melvin Morley the third. He's wanted for armed robbery and assault with a deadly weapon."

Steph rolled her eyes. "I know him. He lives in the Burg, and he was in Val's grade in high school. I didn't realize he's gotten so bad. I remember having to pick him up for shoplifting about a year ago."

"So you know his haunts and habits, Babe?" Fuck. Why does that nickname keep slipping out?

"I'm sure I can find out if you'd like some help," she said, her face pinking slightly.

"I'd appreciate it." I pulled a business card from my pocket and handed it to her. "Why don't you call or come by when you have some free time?"

She nodded. "I'm pretty light on skips right now. How about tomorrow, either late morning or afternoon?"

"Call me when you're ready, and I'll meet you," I replied, and she nodded again. "Ladies," I said to the entire room, then left.

At eleven o'clock the following morning, Stephanie called the office number on my business card, and we agreed to meet for lunch at the Sunshine Café at noon. By eleven-forty-five, I was sitting in the rearmost booth on the west side. I asked the waitress for a glass of ice water and waited for Stephanie to arrive.

She slid into the booth five minutes after twelve. "You're late," I said, but I injected some levity into my tone so she knew I wasn't truly angry.

"Ugh, I know, I'm sorry," she said breathlessly. "There was an accident on Fort, and it took me a while to get past it." She picked up her menu and opened it. "I'm starved!"

I was having a hard time reading Stephanie's intentions. Never before had a woman behaved so casually with me. Mostly, women were afraid of me or wanted to get me into bed. Stephanie didn't seem to fit into either of these categories, and it was disorienting and more than a little intriguing.

When the waitress came by the table, we ordered lunch—Stephanie ordered a double-decker BLT and Coke, and I ordered the chef salad and water. When our drinks had been delivered, Steph took a long swallow of her Coke before setting it down and looking at me contemplatively.

"So, RangeMan," she said.

I raised my eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, I asked, "Was there a question in there?"

She laughed. "I figured you'd fill in the blanks, but I guess not. You don't say much."

"I don't typically volunteer information. It's not a good idea in my line of work," I said.

"Fair enough. Will you answer questions?"

"Depends on the questions."

She huffed out a sigh, causing one of her curls to jump off her forehead, and it took all my control not to smile at her frustration. She was adorable. "You and your brother are new in town," she said, smiling when I nodded. "How come you moved to Trenton?"

"Hector had the idea for a security business and researched a city where that might be most beneficial for us. Trenton won over Newark."

"Why Newark?"

"We grew up there," I replied.

"Ah-ha," she mumbled, and I got the impression she hadn't meant to say that aloud. In a normal tone, she continued. "Do you have any other brothers and sisters?"

"Two older sisters, two younger sisters, and the youngest is another brother."

Her eyebrows shot up. "That's a big family. Are you close with them?"

I shrugged. "Fairly close, I guess."

She switched gears. "Where did you live before you moved to Trenton?"

"Miami."

"You left the sun and beach to move to Trenton?" she asked incredulously.

I shrugged. "Hector wanted to come here."

"Wow. Why?"

I took a sip of my water and didn't reply.

She narrowed her eyes. "Okay, that's a question you're not going to answer. I think I'm getting the hang of talking to you. I checked into Melvin Morley for you and narrowed his potential hiding spots to three. My grandma said his godmother lives over on Pike Street, and that's the first possibility. The second possibility is his ex-stepbrother's place. Their parents divorced about ten years ago, but they grew up together and are pretty close. My best friend Mary Lou reminded me that his mom inherited a cabin from her parents when they died. I think he'd be hiding out there. It's in the Poconos."

"You asked your family and friends, Babe?"

"No one can hide for long in the 'Burg," she said, eyes twinkling. "Someone always knows something."

I smiled. Steph was not what I expected, and I wondered what she was like as a bounty hunter. Her cousin had called her useless, but I was willing to bet that wasn't the case. Our lunches arrived, and we began eating. Steph snagged the waitress when she finished the first half of her sandwich and asked for a piece of apple pie for dessert. When the waitress turned questioningly to me, I shook my head, and she walked away.

"You don't eat dessert?" Steph seemed horrified.

"No. I prefer a different kind of pie," I said in a low voice and was gratified to see her blush. Good.

Later, when I was back in my condo, sipping a beer, I ruminated over the rest of my lunch with Steph. She continued to ask me one-off questions. I declined as many as I answered, and I think she began to see it as a game to see which types of questions I'd answer and which I'd ignore. But she never seemed scared or intimidated by me, which I appreciated. I'd done a little more research into Melvin Morley this afternoon, but I didn't find any of the information Steph had dug up by asking her family and friends. If she could consistently tap her network to find information on skips, I could see her being an asset to RangeMan and me, and I didn't want fear to prevent her from working with me.

Although curious about her, I controlled the impulse to run a background check. At least not yet. If we ended up working together, I would run it, but for now, it was an unnecessary invasion of her privacy, and I had no real need for the information.

I received a text and smiled when I looked at my phone to read it. Tank would arrive tomorrow morning with his cats. I tapped out a quick text of acknowledgement.

The following day, at eleven o'clock, Tank texted again. He was in town and would arrive at the new building in ten minutes, so I shut down the laptop I'd been working on, grabbed two sets of keys and went downstairs. I wasn't sure what he was driving these days, but he had a penchant for classic convertibles, so I wanted to open the underground garage for him.

Ten minutes later, he rolled into the garage and parked his latest toy—a 1969 orange Pontiac GTO with a white convertible top, which was currently down. He hefted himself out of the car and grinned at me. Tank was well over six feet tall, a solid block of muscle, and black as midnight, with a shining bald head. He didn't smile often, but when he did, the whiteness of his teeth contrasted sharply with his skin.

"Hey, man," he greeted, loping over to grasp my hand. We did that half-hug, half-handshake thing.

"Yo, man. Nice wheels," I said, nodding to his car.

He smiled. "My new baby. That there's a Judge." Though I liked cars—the sleeker and blacker the better—I wasn't as well-versed in the classics as Tank and my little brother Lester were. "Only a hundred and eight of those babies were ever made."

"Nice. You brought the cats, right? Are they okay?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. I had to drug them for the ride, so they're pretty mellow. You found me a place, right?"

"Hector did—a duplex about fifteen minutes away in Hamilton Township. We can go there now if you like."

Tank nodded. "I'd like to get the cats settled in before I get a tour of our new business."

I dug into my picket to toss him a set of keys. "For your new pad. I'll drive; you follow me in your car."

I pulled out of the garage and took a right to drive toward his new place. Hector had given me the address, and I had done enough exploring to know the street, if not the exact address. When we arrived, I stopped in front of the small duplex. It had a minuscule front yard, but the house was neat and in good repair. If I knew Hector, it would be thoroughly updated inside, and he would have installed a security system.

Sure enough, the panel next to the front door beeped when we got inside. I punched in the standard code Hector and I had agreed on as our default and told Tank the code. "You can change it to whatever you want later, but that's the default for now."

Tank held onto a massive cat carrier he had liberated from his backseat, with three cats huddled inside. He walked inside the house and sat the carrier in the kitchen beside the island. I followed him and looked around. I was right. This place was updated with all the modern conveniences he knew Tank would appreciate.

Tank grabbed the litter box, cat food, and dishes from the car. He let the cats out of their carrier and about filling their bowls and dumping fresh litter into the box. He set up the box in the laundry room, and we took a quick tour of his new house. The main bedroom was reasonably large and took up the entire back of the second floor. The bathroom was between the big bedroom and two smaller bedrooms that took up the front of the house. The main floor had a decently sized living room across the back, with a sliding door leading to the fenced-in backyard. The kitchen was next to the entryway at the front of the house, and there was a powder room next to the stairs. The walls were painted in neutral colours, with dark wooden floors throughout the entire space.

"Not bad," I said after returning to the kitchen. "When is your stuff supposed to arrive?"

"It should be here today. I talked to the moving truck this morning, and they're about four hours behind me."

"Well, when they arrive, I can help you set up your furniture. Now that you're here, Hector will want to step back even more from any decision-making. You ready to take that on?"

"Yep. Any word back from the architect yet?"

"Nah. But he's only been working on them for a few days."

"You got any…whaddya call them…FTAs yet?"

"I got one a couple of days ago. Yesterday, I met with the other bounty hunter working for this bonds office. She worked her contacts and got me some possible locations for our man."

"A female bounty hunter? Is she built like me?"

I laughed. "Nah, she's cute. The bondsman is her cousin. She does the low to medium bonds for him. He's a creepy little ferrety-lookin' dude. So far, she doesn't seem to be anything like him."

"You hit that yet?"

"No, and I'm not planning on it, either. It's business."

"I don't remember that stopping you before," he noted.

"She's not like that. Besides, she's lived here her whole life. I suspect she'll be a good contact for us, considering she seems to know everyone in town or knows someone who does. It's not a good idea to mix business with pleasure."